An Apocalyptic Romance /Part 1

The gloom settles as she walks the sidewalks of the crushed city, her shotgun level with her shoulder and ever alert and ready for doom to fall once again. The moon shines down blue light over the heaped, burnt out cars, remnants of buildings, the occasional blackened remains of human bodies, broken glass, and spent ammunition shells littering the ground.

It is a landscape she never expected to have to see, one she never expected to call home if one even could do that anymore.

One of my beloved gas masks.
(Not to be used as stock, image under copyright)

Her pack is heavy though the weight of it and her ammunition belt is comforting, it means she has things to rely on, weapons and food, a few extra articles of clothing not ripped to shreds or covered in blood. The gas mask she wears on her face has become like a second skin; there's no telling if the gases have abated since that dark morning when her country blew itself apart.

The wind blows a piece of tattered tarp hanging over a chain link fence and she lines her site up with it when it's movement alerts her. She sighs and lowers her gun as she relaxes, almost disappointed it wasn't one of those bastards she had come to love shooting holes into. After the blasts, bombs and gassing, the military and police officials were practically the only ones left and they had the weapons, power, and drive to take anyone down in order to steal what they needed to survive. "To serve and protect.", yeah right. More like "To murder, rape, and destroy."

She hadn't seen another "real" human being alive in over two weeks and the last time she had, the guy had tried to  smooth his way into her good graces before trying to bludgeon her with a 2 x 4 and take her guns. He lost the fight and she had even gotten a pretty good shiner and a semiautomatic handgun out of the scrap.

'Sorry man, hope the bullet I left between your eyes doesn't leave you with too lasting a headache.'

Kills so far, 23 "officers" of the law and 7 "real" human beings. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park to blow someone's brain stem away but if it meant keeping her life then she would do it.

'I may have delicate hands but a trigger is only a little bit longer than an inch.'

That was their mistake, they underestimated her because of a few factors; she was young, a woman, and she was alone. What they also failed to understand that is was the fact that she was alone that had kept her alive for so long, it had been terrifying the first few days but after a while the solitude had shown her she didn't need anyone as a crutch to survive.

It hadn't been the most fun part of her life but it hadn't been the worst, she did miss her friends and her family, her comfortable bed. Surviving something so horrendous as the Almost-End of the World had really shown her how much she did value her life, the air in her lungs, and the way the sun looked so clean in the morning just after rising through the drifts of thick, mud green smoke.

Her watch beeps. Another hour had passed which meant screwing in a new filter to her mask. The air in her lungs was only breathable if the filters held out. She makes a note to forage for some extras and began a look out for military supply trucks; the five in her pack wouldn't even finish out the night.

She steps around a corner and as she does she hears the familiar sound of a rifle being cocked, she immediately crouches down behind a burned out Buick with some toasty looking skeletal remains seated inside.

She carefully looks around the back end of the car in the direction of the sound to find a guy sitting on the curb on top of a huge pack cleaning a hunting rifle. He has on a black tactical uniform like the Feds wear but he had a white (well it used to be white) armband with a medical cross on it. She had come to find that the medics were much kinder than just the regular grunts running around out there who wished nothing more than to use your body as a warm place to stick their cock for a few minutes before blowing your brains out and stealing your gear.

The lenses of his mask are smudged so badly with grease that she could barely make out his eyes. She edges out from behind the car a little bit more to get a better look when he suddenly looks up,

"Hey there. What's cooking?"

She readies her shotgun at her shoulder and stands slowly, keeping him in her sights,

"Nothing much cowboy, just taking a moonlit stroll. You military?"

Still he sits without the slightest inclination to arm himself against her hostile movements, he just sits there looking at her while he tapped the butt of his rifle tonelessly.

"I'm a corpman, so sure, that's military. Why do you ask? Wanna start a war or something?"

"Funny."

He laughs inside his mask, the noise of it sounding like waves from the distortion of the sound within the rubber. She doesn't laugh. Without lowering her weapon she takes a few steps cautiously toward him, her boots crunching on broken glass, shrapnel, and other detritus.

"So you have name? You hostile?"

"Gregory. I'm only hostile if someone else is hostile, seems to me anything else is excess. You?"

"I'm right there with you Gregory, the names Ace."

"Ace? Like the bandage? That's a pretty tough name you got there, sunshine." Again he laughs.

"It's a nickname and no, not like the bandage. Thanks."

She becomes a alert when he reaches down toward his pack,

"Don't move! I have you fixed, I will pull the trigger!" She blinks only once but keeps her eye peeled and directly on him, her finger eager on the trigger.

"I'm just getting you something, something you seem to need."

"I don't need anything, stay still!"

He ignores her and reaches futher down, unzipping a pouch on the outside of his bag. She shuffles forward, her gun pointed directly at his head,

"Drop the weapon, drop it!"

He laughs, then holds out his hand, offering her something in his open palm. She looks down at a bar of chocolate. She relaxes and lets out a small laugh, lowering her gun.

"You seem like you could use something sweet."

"I bet you use that line on all the ladies, huh?" She takes the chocolate bar and stows it in the pocket of her vest.

"Nah, just the ones that point shotguns right in my face and yell at me."

She smiles and reaches out her hand to him, and as he shakes it, two things happen; she realizes how long it's been since she's laughed and then hears a gun shot before seeing Gregory's face explode in a starburst of blood, skulls fragments, and flesh.

She has seconds before she can drop to the ground behind a shipping van, her face, arms and chest covered in blood spatter and unintelligible globs of human matter. Her breathing quickens as does her pulse and she lines her gun up with her eye as she lays on her stomach on the ground, she sees two pairs of feet in beat up sneakers running toward her, the sounds of their clanging packs and ammunition ringing in the air.

"Come out girlie, come play. What were you saying to your Jarhead friend there? Are you civilian? Grunt? Come out!"

She immediately hates him for his voice and listens attentively as they come ever nearer to her. She keeps the feet in her sights but if she's going to waste a shell or two they had better be toward kills, not just wounding some son of a bitch on his big toe.

"I know you're there, I shot that fuck and let you live. I thought you might be a little more fun to get to know."

'Oh great' she thinks, 'another horny fuckface who thinks her purpose in life is to let him stick his unimpressive pecker in me.'

She shifts her weight and kneels up, trying to be a quiet as possible. She stands quietly and leans her back against the truck and side steps closer to the front end of it. She looks out cautiously through what used to be a window to see one teenage idiot without a gas mask wearing tactical armor with a shredded t-shirt pulled over the top and a semiautomatic machine gun pushed into his shoulder, the sight obscuring his face.

'One idiot? I thought I saw two pairs of feet?' she thinks to herself before feeling someone's breath on her neck,

"Hey bitch, you lonely?"

Before she can even think, he has her shoulders pinned to the side of the truck as her gun hits the pavement, and his mouth is on her neck as she struggles and curses ni his face. She screams out as he yells to his buddy,

"Come on dude, I got her!"

Footsteps sound as the little prick pinning her to the truck bites the top of her breast through the t-shirt she wears under her bullet proof vest. His saliva runs down her cleavage and makes her squirm in disgust. She growls at him as his buddy rounds the front of the truck,

"You bastards are going to regret this, stupid fucking kids!"

"Yeah whatever, shut your fucking mouth before we fire a bullet down your throat." The other says before pulling out a knife.

After pulling her pack off of her back and throwing it to the ground, he pulls loose the straps of her vest and rips it off, leaving her even more vulnerable. He uses his knife to cut into the neck of her t shirt, cutting all the way down through the fabric before it falls open, revealing her breasts snugly held in a black bra. His toothy grin instant makes her want to rip that satisfied smile right of his greasy face.

The first boy pulls duct tape from a roll hanging from rope tied to his belt and tapes her wrists together above her head before pulling her over to the street sign a few steps away. Using more tape he secures her wrists to the pole, before slapping her across the face illiciting an angry scream,

"You fucker! What is your fucking deal?"

They laugh as they come closer, their greedy hands on her body as she shouts curses at them. Her voice going hoarse, Ace kicks at one in the crotch, making him go down on his knees while the other pushes his blade against her throat,

"Hey bitch, you pull another move like that I and I will slash your fucking throat; we don't need for you to be alive to get off."

She shudders in disgust but pulls back against the pole, consigning defeat for at least the time being. The boy she kicked is still on the ground holding his wounded pride but the one with the knife drags the tip down her cleavage as he lick her neck. Feeling his warm breath against her throat sickens her but she tries to remain cooperative. Raped isn't dead afterall, if they keep their word that is.

She closes her eyes and moment later hears two gun shots near to her hit their targets. When she opens her eyes, a girl with short red hair is smiling at her. The boy groans from the pavement,

"Would you excuse me for a second?"

She smiles at Ace before crouching over the boy laying on the ground,

"What can I help you with? Does it hurt? It should you disgusting pile of filth."

She cocks her handgun and puts one bullet into the side of his brain before turning back to Ace with a warm smile,

"So now that that is all taken care of, let's see about your wrists."

As this red haired savior leans toward Ace, their skin touches and she looks down into her eyes. She smiles and the moon catches in them and the glow calms Ace and makes something flutter deep within her.

"Oh god, you're bleeding. We'll have to wash and dress your cuts when we get back to The Hole. You'll be more than welcome there, and safe too."

Her pocket knife catches the tape and frees Ace, the relief a welcome to her aching arms and rattled mind. As she rubbed her soon to be bruised wrists, the girl with the red hair grabbed up her pack, vest, and shotgun from where they had been thrown by the dead men.

"By the way, I'm Elle. You have a name?"

"Oh yeah, sorry...I'm Ace. Thank you so much, I can't even begin to even..." Cutting her off, Elle intones,

"It's ok, that was a pretty shitty thing to have to go through. I'm just glad I saw you down here. I was up in what's left of the hospital looking for whatever, you know? I heard you screaming and popped my head out the window." With a smile she helped Ace into her vest and pack before handing over her gun.

"Again thanks...."

As she steps off the curb she stumbles, her heavy boot catching the edge of the cracked cement. Elle reaches out, grabs her by her pack and takes hold of her hand, steadying her. As Ace looked over to her right, Elle's huge clear eyes shoe back and her and she's caught breathless by the glow she feels deep within her. She smiles in spite of herself and as Elle smiles back she forgets for a moment that she's standing in a graveyard of a world that was nearly dead. She feels lifted from all the mayhem and ugliness.

"I guess you're not so steady, not that I don't blame you. Here, give me your arm."

As she takes Ace's arm and they began the walk to The Hole, Ace thinks that there's was change in the air, though she isn't quite sure what that means.

-TO BE CONTINUED -

Bight Me

Rope + Girl + Me + Friends + Fudge = Fabulous

A not-so-HD camera phone shot of us playing (I dyed my hair!)

For those of you who didn't know, I am quite the fan of rope. Having grown up on boats on the Pacific coast of our wonderful country I have felt comfortable around the heft, weight, and tension of ropes from a very young age. When I become more interested in rope in the beginning of last year I began playing with it and found myself quickly drawn into it. Now I have over 500 feet of assorted ropes like natural hemp, sisal, and nylon. 

This night was amazing, we got to learn (and teach) some new techniques in a comfortable, close group of friends but even better than that, I tied my girl up and messed with her. I used a chest harness and attached her ankles which had been tied in a two-column tie and left the free of her ankle tie free so that I could reel her in an out, adding and subtracting the pressure on her bonds and her body while the ball of my foot rubbed her clit from the outside of her pants....yes, it was fun.

Oh, and we had peanut butter fudge made by a friend of mine which may seem like a small detail but it was so delish! Candy + Rope = Love.

Christmas Bitches

Merry Christmas to you all from my girl and I.

Yes, that's all I'm posting.....cuz we're too busy fucking.

So yeah...anyway...Merry Christmas!

My girlfriend is a about a foot shorter than I am. She wears heels sometimes, but then again so do I so....hmmm.

I Love Her

After many years of fearing the fact that I had desires toward women that were way deeper than just wanting to get them naked and have my way with them, I finally let all that go and opened up a new chapter in my life.

Our lesbian toothbrushes kissing. Sickeningly adorable, I know.

Of course I had loved sex with men; my life has been punctuated and written all of sex with men, being possessed, ravaged, fucked upside down, and even raped but any emotional connection was so forced, so tedious, and so much work. I did love Gadget, I did love Trigger, I did love Horns but something was never quite realized in that love.

I have dreamed night and day of women's bodies, their faces, their mouths, their voices in my ears and even more lusty fantasies since the age of 8 and always dismissed it as just a sexual curiosity and spark. It just wasn't so and I had lied to myself for so long.

The time is over for lying to myself, for fear and loathing, and for denial and grief.

After so many years of confusion and forcing myself to be straight, (or straight-ish at least) I met her, Kangaroo. Her green eyes, her blonde spiky hair, her weird little gorgeous lips, and the hands that are even smaller than mine (a first in my life!).

I love her.

Blood, Gore, & Tits

So October is the month that we're all allowed to be a little more creepy, dark, and evil because lovely Halloween is the finishing move of the month. My girl Kangaroo and I really went wild with some blood (real or fake, you decide) in white lingerie and not only did the shots look fabulous but the shoot made my kitten so very wet.

Happy Halloween!

Sweet Cupcakes

So you know how I'm totally obsessed with cupcakes? How about 9 girls in sexy lingerie kneeling and smooshing, rubbing, and throwing cupcakes on and at each other? Does it make it it even better to know that they also rip each other's bras and panties off and then slip around in the icing and cake all over themselves, falling into a huge heap?

I'm not even kidding and it makes me so giddy it almost hurts....this is my REAL life! Yay! <3

Did I also mention that this is for a juvenile AIDS charity? Yes, naked, icing covered girls playing outside for charity. Anything is possible in life when you have an imagination like mine.

La petite and some double (and triple!) doses of sugary love!

When Girls Actually Like Girls

When a girl gets after another girl who actually like other girls, it can be like nothing else.

Madeline was after me like wildfire with true passion and true desire and true lust, no acting, no frills and no "looking cute for attention". I don't kiss girls to turn boys on, I kiss girls because it turns me on.

 

Madeline attending to my little needy kitten

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In swinging or group situations, so many girls only indulge their partners by being with another woman because its what he wants and they really have no desire beyond pleasing their man through their willingness. This has always frustrated me to no end as I'm a girl who is honestly into other girls and who has skills and loves getting them off.

When I encounter one of those "glamor lesbians" I get myself into a frustrated tizzy because I just don't get it, if you don't like girls or care about their pleasure then leave them out of your bed.

Its refreshing to actually find another girl who cares about giving pleasure as much as I do, Madeline fit the bill.

She kissed me with heat and it really caught my breath and it surprised me that a girl could work me up so completely; it had been so long since I'd been with another woman who had such interest in her feminine partner. She had amazing oral skills and you could tell she truly delighted in my pleasure: it drove me wild.

So here's to girls who actully like girls, cuz I'm one of them. :)

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Fogged Up Windows

I always thought the concept of "parking" was kind of out-moded and typically high school, but that was probably because I had never done it before. Well, now I have and I have to say...parking rocks, hardcore.

Libra and I have a genuine sexual passion for each other that I wouldn't have thought possible when we started seeing one another, its surprisingly lovely and I have say, gorgeously hot. I'm the experienced one in the equation (shocker!) and she's the curious, willing one pulled into my ploys of sexual deviancy.

Girl Love 101

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It was late on a Tuesday night and we had an argument about something as we always have arguments, only to make-up minutes later; I put this on her completely. I was tired and angry and horny and annoyed completely. A brilliant idea popped into my head through the haze of my discomfort; Libra and I needed to fuck right now or it would be very bad news and it had to be in the car.

Such an interesting imagination I have.

I peeled out of her driveway and asked her where the nearest park was. She directed me, kind of curiously questioning me while I gave away nothing. I finally stopped next to the river behind a sparse covering of trees, facing the road yet about four-hundred feet away from it. I got out of the driver's seat and opened the back door and plopped myself back there, looking at Libra through the window, she soon caught on and followed directly.

Immediately her lips were on mine, her hands around my hips pulling me into her. We kissed in that pained, rushed way you kiss when you just are so wrapped in the other person with a sick lust that can't be controlled. You can barely even make contact with whats actually going on but you know that if you stop you'll die, so you keep on. It was that kind of kissing, "whore kissing" I call it.

Under my skirt I wore no panties and when she discovered this via her wildly roaming hands she looked into my eyes, her attention completely focused on me and wanting me. It made me want to climb the wall. When she smoothed her small fingers gently over the slickness of me, I could tell she savored each motion, the sensation of it.

I whimpered when her fingertips found my clit, in her expression there was fire and though I was lost in my own pleasure, I felt her pulsing energy colliding with my own. In my mind I saw the colors pink, red, orange all flashing through my brain in relation to the rubbing on my clit.

Being the type of girl that I am, my mind clicked into overdrive when I realized I had my brand new Bandito dildo in my purse. Go figure, right?

I slowed Libra and looked at her,

"Do you want to fuck me with a dildo, like we talked about? I have one with me."

Her smile was a little bit tainted with nervousness but she agreed she was interested. I climbed a bit into the front set to find my purse and once I had my prize I fell back into the back seat, holding out the length of the black toy to her. I smiled,

"So just like zip it up in the fly of your jeans. It'll be like a harness."

The flared base of the dildo made it perfect to use in this way. New tip from me to you: if you have a Bandito and want a chick to fuck you even though you don't have a harness, have her put on the tightest pair of jeans she has and zip the toy into the fly. It works like a charm.

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The amber glow from the distant street lights beats upon her face, the warmth illuminating her eyes as she slid into me. The moment left me breathless and delightfully confused. Libra worked the toy into and out of me with an instinctual skill, her hips slapping against the underside of my thighs as she pumped and thrusted.

The back of my head bumping the car window, the sweat dripping from her face onto mine, the tense grasp of my hand on the edge of the upholstered seat; all of these things culminated into a sick, heated passion that flowed through the both of us and she fucked me.

When she grabbed my tit and bit at the nipple with her teeth, it was with as much savage passion as any man has ever had for me and my body as he claimed me. Her expression was the same too.

It seems the act of taking a woman and her virtue affects all people, and reaction isn’t determinate on gender.

When I had finally had had too much to bear and realized that I had to come, one slight touch of my fingertip on my clit almost made me come. Her arching thrusts moved in time with my own twitching fingers and in what seemed like a split second, my body was rapt with the swooning rapture of an intense and mind exploding orgasm.

She cradled me against her body when I lent up to hug her, her hands possessive and strong on me like any man whose ever held me after sex. She was more though somehow, not more fulfilling, but more comforting and it felt more true than other random sex.

I don’t make these comparisons out of spite or to show men as loveless, soulless beings but instead to show how interesting it was that there were so many similarities between Libra and a man as she fucked me. It felt like Human Behavior Class all over again, but this time I got fucked and I came. Super!

Libra looked down, the toy cock still zipped up in her fly and she handled it quite admiringly and with much joy. She smiled and looked at me,

“How do you like my cock?”

I laughed and grabbed the toy, pulling it to bring her closer to me,

“I like it just fine, I think you know that too.”

"Hey Petite, let's name him Albert...the cock that God didn't give me."

We laughed as we sat in the back of the car watching the little droplets of condensation drip down all the windows surrounding us, our minds completely overwhelmed with sensation and recollection. We could have made a veritable rain storm with all of that condensation had I not needed to come.

On the drive back to her house as I was coping with my woozy head, we were both cat grins and all giggles feeling the post-sex high together. It was bliss.

Once we had reached her house I questioned her,

“Libra, would you fuck me against that vacant house next to yours in the field? Would you screw me like that outside and in the dark and everything?”

Her response was immediate,

“Oh fuck yeah. You wanna? Come on! We have to now ‘cause you brought it up.”

So with that, Libra dragged me out of the car and across the field to the vacant house, placed me legs spread and skirt over my ass and fucked me with the dildo zipped up in her jeans, my face a mixed mask of pleasure and amusement.

I giggled as a lone cat watched approvingly from the high grass not far from us. She must understand you know, being a cat and all. She must understand what its like to be horny, with your ass up in the air wanting to be fucked out in nature.

So we fucked in the high grass, two girls with a dildo.

What a pair.

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...

Kissing Her Lips

I ease my body down to lie down beside her and gently smooth my hand over the gliding mountainous curve of her hip. Her sleepy breath is gentle and somber, her eyes I know are closed even though all the light I see is amber from the candle across the room.

A pink heart paddle meets my mouth: heaven.

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She is near sleep but still aware of my presence. I want so much to kiss her.



The ripple in my stomach lets me know that the moment is heat and light, even in this darkness, even with her back to me. I let my hand rest in the valley of her waist, my fingers gently gripping her curve there. I lie my head down behind hers and rub my face in the swarthy cascade of her hair. She smells of lilac and baby powder, of fruit punch and of her own special scent; I breathe her in like a medicinal mist.



She speaks softly to me, her hand moving to lie atop mine,



"I know you're here with me. I can feel you really powerfully."



I giggle gently, biting my lip to stifle the sound of it in this silent haven. I don't speak and instead I kiss her jawbone. My lips feel her heat in that instant and I'm transfixed. I'm in my natural element and I know everything is right with the world that I touch her flesh with my lips.



She sighs audibly and grips my hand in hers; she shifts her body ore toward me and I slide my hand over her stomach with her movement. My breath catches and her eyes are like and owl's, so big and focused through the haze of the dark. She licks her lips before she speaks again,



"I know what you're thinking, I'm not scared. You're the one with the seeming dilemma."



I'm at battle with myself knowing that I'm afraid and I'm pierced through the heart that she knows this. I'm all comfort and love and butterflies with her and yet my conflict resounds. I've only loved a woman in sex, only loved her as an object of momentary desire.



This time I'm afraid to kiss her out of love. Real love.



Really loving a woman. Me, really loving a woman.



I repeat these self-made mantras to myself in earnest. What am I trying to do? Scare myself away from her? Make myself not desire her smell, her voice, her laughter?



I can't force myself straight.



Maybe its time to objectify men as my sex objects and actually let myself love a woman like I've been dreaming of for eight years. I'm afraid but her lips could be mine and it makes me sober up to my reality, to my opportunity.



I breathe out and bring my hand up to her face, gently stroking her lips with my fingertips. I follow the curve of them, enchanting myself. I lean over her face and my hair falls down around my shoulders, tickling her own as a mirror image to mine.



I look into her eyes and they smile, they invite and I'm petrified. Yet I keep going, I have a target to lock onto and I continue on.



Her lips are fire and softness, they envelope mine and I swear I can feel every soft line in them fit like a puzzle to mine. I bravely massage her bottom lip with my tongue and her response is like a wild fire. Her small arms wrap around my shoulders and she kisses me with a fierceness I thought unattainable in a girl. She has the passion that I have.



Kissing her lips is a fantasy of Arthurian proportions with light and wind and soft tinkling chimes. I'm taken and I'm swept and all that other rubbish all in one moment of bliss. I connect and she connects and I'm not afraid.



Everything is alright as I kiss this girl: in love.



Two girls kissing in bed, like two twins, their arms around one another and in complete rapture.



I'm not afraid.

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Three notes of news for you: Monday is my first edition of "The Monday Buzz", my all original product review segment, it should be pretty juicy. I can't wait!

Also: 

How do you like the new design? I edited it myself with a blogger template (heavily modified it) and also used a great graphic by DaPino, my new favorite designer! I'm all modern now. Woo! 

Also: 

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY! 

YAY! WERE STILL FREE.....kind of. 

YAY ANYWAY! 

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Am I or Aren't I?

If you sob when the man you've been involved with seriously for nearly two years is in the process of making love to you, could it mean that you're going through a sexual crisis?

Well if the answer is yes, then I'm in serious trouble.

A few weeks back, Gadget and I were near splitting but in the end it sort of resolved itself, if not for the sake of the relationship, then for the sake of both of our mental states. Were both going through big changes and overthrows in our lives and perhaps we just wanted to edit the drama down for the meantime. Sound depressing? It is, but mostly confusing.

Mirror Image: Two lips kissing of the same persuasion
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I'm having some mixed up feelings and thoughts pour through my mind that are confusing, tantalizing, frightening, hot, dangerous, anti-normal and just plain naughty; I cant stop thinking about girls.

Day and night, in my sleep, as I work, as I paint (naked girls), when I'm reading, its just overwhelming. Now my issue is not the fact that I'm fantasizing about girls, I've been with girls even longer than I have with men during the evolution of my sexual life but its the fact that I haven't really been fantasizing about men. Usually its a fifty/fifty thing, but lately its around eighty/twenty.

I identify with the gay community, all of my friends are gay men and I feel comfort knowing that I have huge gay tendencies. So wheres the problem? I'm afraid that if I "come out" and one day go back to a man, or randomly hook-up with one as I often do (but haven't done since Aaden) that I'll be seen as a hypocrite, which is personally one of the most horrible things to be.

So why not just stay labeled as "Bi"? I don't know, but somehow it doest seem honest, somehow it doesn't speak for the reality thats raging in my mind. I know that I will be with another man again (hell, I am still with a man) but it seems a discourtesy to whatever girl I'm with to be Bi, like I'm not putting in as much as she is.

My fantasies have ranged from just those of sexual satisfaction to a relationship, the latter having not been something I've ever thought of. I have thoughts of kissing this mystery chick and holding her, cuddling with her and going out, being a real couple. Its a little bit scary because it threatens everything I thought my life would be once I "grow up".

Though I'm a bit of an anti-establishment shit, I still have the mind set that once I'm older, I'll get married 9to a man), have children, work and be an upstanding American. It sounds ridiculous but Its just how my mom raised me to think, and though I don't think it will actually happen like that, it still is always there lurking in my subconscious.

I've realized how easy it is to just be a young, straight girl living in the U.S.. I've taken it for granted really.

It's so easy to just let everyone think you're "normal". They ask you how your boyfriend is, how school is, how your friends are and everything is just fine; imagine what it would be like if my mother's elderly friends were to ask me how my boyfriend is and I have to say,

"Well, she's not exactly a "boy"friend."

I admit its a horrible way of thinking, especially since I recognize my mostly homosexuality and I see what goes on in the lives of my outed friends. I need a burst of courage maybe or perhaps to be slapped to a realization.

Its funny isn't it? The neighborhood slut is thinking that perhaps she's gay?

Its isn't really all that though maybe, maybe I just need to get my sex on with a girl again, god knows its been a while. Maybe I'm just taking out my relationship problems in this way.

Maybe this whole thing is just hormonal and will die down soon, but for now I'm going through one heavy duty mind fuck and need some clarity.

.........
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More Varied & Active

Sometimes I don't care that I and most of the world would consider me a slut.

For me the word doesn't mean things that are so bad, not the things that would pop to your mind when someone next to you muttered in your ear about a girl passing you, "Bro, she's a slut." and then anyone hearing the comment passes dirty judgment on that girl, her kitten and her HIV status.

No, to me its something far off of that.

Little girls shouldnt steal their boyfriend's workshirts...

For me its very different because I've made my bed and I'll lie in it....And have with a few people, more than I actually can list on one hand, or two. I can see a girl who makes choices not based on social appeal and judgment, but on her own emotions, her own body and her own pleasure. Her own life and freedom.

I spoke with my cousin on the who turned twenty-two and the dreaded "S" word came up in the lines of dialogue and witty repartee. She was nervous because she had now slept with four men and wasn't sure how to feel about herself, her "slut status" if you will. I bit my nail and was glad we were only connected my wireless cell phone signals floating through the atmosphere versus actually sitting face to face. I let her know that four wasn't very much and when she asked me how many men I'd slept with, I told the truth.

She thought I was lying.

I countered her doubt and yet...

She still thought I was teasing her.

When finally, and achingly she believed me she got very quiet but then piped in with a story of her favorite sex memoir and started to recount it. Because all sluts like me love to hear sex stories, oh yeah.

Basically, the story was a let down and ended with her fucking a long standing high school friend after a chance encounter and reunion in a locked closet....In an empty house. How exciting is that? No one is there to catch you. Yes, closets seem like a fun place to be diddled but...Only if there's a chance of being caught.

But this would be impossible in an empty house in a locked closet.

I sighed and picked at my nail polish, trying not to think of all the more interesting things I could talk about but I demurred because they would flip her out seeing as how her libido has all the spice of an ice cube.

What would I tell my applepie cousin?

Could I talk about the four girl orgy I had at a house party in an outer suburb of London one summer? The sweaty palms sliding over heaving breasts as giggles and moans issued through the now steam and heat filled attic.

Musty sweet smells filling my senses as a girl lapped at my swollen and dripping clit, my orgasm pounding on the doors of my self control. My scream pounding to the very walls of the ancient 5 story town house as my body spasmed its way through its third orgasm within the hour and my body was reduced to a panting, sweaty and super-sensitive mass of naked breasts, thighs and a very tired kitten.

My body warmed afterward by the cuddling bodies of three other girls like an International lasagna. All of us a different nationality like global friendly poster-children for lesbianism: America, England, Brazil and Russia.

I couldn't talk about that with her. I couldn't tell her those sweaty details and be able to live with myself afterward.

Could I relay the time I let my blind friend go down on me because he could smell my wet kitten from his bedroom door as I stood waiting for him? Instead of leaving for a concert, he pulled me into his room and down onto the bed, kneeling before me as he gently pulled my panties down, commenting on the sweet smell of my most-feminine asset.

His lips soft and wet and hot and burning into me as he kissed my soft, wet and sacred lips. My arching back as I came in his face after his tongue swirled gentle stars on my clit and his strong hands held me down. His compliments hitting every sense aside from sight:

You taste so fucking wonderful, my lord, so wet. You smell like a dying flower in a cold room. Your moans are so lovely, so beautiful. Your skin is so soft and smooth, almost like a baby's, perfect.

I couldn't tell her that, I couldn't tell her I let my friend just go down on me without even taking me on a date first and having a first kiss. I don't think I ever kissed him on his mouth....Hmmm.

No, I couldn't tell her that.

Could I tell her about the time I stripped down lasciviously when I knew one of our family's friends was watching me through my half closed bedroom door, looking him in the eye the entire time? At 15, I was feeling that I was fodder for the male mind and sex drive, at 41 he saw me as a prime sexual being. I listened to the smooth music on my stereo and at times briefly closed my eyes and let my hips sway from side to side as I peeled another item of clothing from my sun-heated body. I felt his eyes burning my skin like a curse of lust and when I pulled my bra down over my forearms and his hand went to his mouth. I blew him a kiss and motioned for him to come inside.

His face was resolutely serious and focused like a surgeons. I smiled and when he kissed me on the side of neck and I moaned deep within my body and audibly. I knew he would long for me far away when he was by himself and that he might touch myself. I knew that when I thought of that fact later when I was alone, I would touch myself too.

No, that would push the limits of her morality and I couldn't do that to her, now could I? No, I wouldn't.

Could I expose to her the time I went down on my ex boyfriend's new girlfriend because she and I both knew she was a lesbian but was just toying with him because he had hurt me? It wasn't my plan, but she said it would be perfect and would love to extract some sex-related justice on him. She planned it so that he would walk into her apartment as I was going down on her, my tongue deep inside of her and my sense of flavor tasting her sweet and slightly salty dew. She came before he got there and we had to start again.

I didn't mind.

I don't think she did either.

I sucked gently on her super-sensitive and swollen clit as her back arched and she cursed out against god and he walked in, his mouth agape and his expression hurt and shocked. She came again, looking into his face.

And when she came so hard against my slick lips and slippery tongue, I looked into his face too.

No, that wouldn't do to be such a bad girl and push her sense of sexual self slip into darkness and crawl away from her into the abyss of morality. That would be like punishing her for having less than a sensual and passionate sex life and pushing that fact that I had a more varied and active sex life and drive than she could ever hope for (to borrow a line from fellow blogger, Jefferson).

So instead I yawned into the phone and spoke quickly and animated,

Oh my god cuz, you're such a naughty girl!

She giggled and assented. Too bad for her she hasn't even begun to realized what life can hold for you. What sex can give you and what you can take from other people with their permission, assent and sometimes, even hard determination.

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Tech Tags: slut, orgy, lesbian, cunnilingus, orgasm, stripping, kiss, blind, revenge

A Kiss of Rosé Part Two

This entry begins here. 
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My pulse raced as if I had run around the world and not taken a break, I was completely enthralled.

Her hands were lithe on my hips as they pulled at my tee, gentle but ever so needy. Her fingertips were oddly soft to me, so smooth and goading as she pulled my tee up over my bra and over my shoulders, my hands clinking together for just a moment while my arms were slightly bound by the tee. Our knees and ankles pressed together as we sat crossed legged facing each other, What to do next?

My bravery got the most of me as I reached slowly behind Ellie, while at the same time multitasking with my lips against hers. My fingers found the clasp of her bra and with deft fingers unlocked it to spill forth the divine prize of her lovely breasts.

I bit my lips as I watched the two shells of her bra slip away from the pale skin of her small breasts with their tiny, bright pink nipples. As I pointed out before, she was a very petite and somewhat boyish pixie type girl with breasts that were small and sat high on her chest above a prominent and softly curving ribcage.

To me, it was all alien territory. Whenever I had been with woman in the past, they were always like me, very womanly with abundant curves and breasts. This was like finding a strange treasure that exists in familiar territory.

In a quick moment she had unclipped my front-closure bra, her eyes wandering over my breasts, my darkly pink nipples. We sighed as once again our lips met, and slowly we laid on our sides, hands interlocked, lips interlocked. Her hands warmed up as they slid over my stomach, the curve of my hips, my arms. But always she avoided my breasts, when she giggled at my apparent distress she let me in on her plan.

Dont worry mon petite, Im building the tension. How I do love your tits.

I giggled as she began kissing me with increased fervor, my hands spilling all over her body. Her shoulders seizsed and shook when I softly pinched one nipple, her breath catching. She stretched out cat-like as my mouth replaced my fingertips, my tongue swirling softly over her nipple. My hands slid deftly along her stomach, over her hip and to her thigh as they existed with such heat.

Her legs spread gently in anticipation as I slid my hand up along her warm thigh under her skirt, my lips and teeth softly teasing her flesh. The heat from her wet kitten was penetrating her black cotton panties, the dampness evident even inches away. I watched her flushed face as I slid them off, my fingers wrapped delicately around the hip band.

Whenever my face is close to a woman's body in an intimate moment, or even just cuddling platonically with my close chick friends, I love to smell their skin. Its not just a sense, you can smell the warmth and the original scent of them, the underlying scent thats just behind the perfume and scented soap.

Of course women embody the essence of sugar, and the added perfumes and soaps are so intoxicating....but I love the down to earth scent of a chick. A woman's kitten can in no way hide it's sweet and intoxicating scent, it breaks through to your senses like little whispers of secrets.

I pressed my lips to her inner thigh and let my senses become overwhelmed with the sweetness of her perfumed skin and her secret scent. I closed my eyes slowly, my eyelashes fluttering over her thigh, her long hands clasping at my hair gently. I clipped little kisses along the inside of her thighs, drawing ever closer to her secret center.

My lips gently lowered onto the outer lips of her kitten, my face and lips feeling her heat and need. Her back arched with anticipation when my warm lips came into contact with her now dewy kitten.

A little trail of her lubrication trickled down between the lips of her swollen kitten and trailed between her little ass cheeks. I let my tongue slid up the outside of her lips, from the bottom all the way to where the two little folds meet neatly at the top.

My tongue hid itself in the cleft made by her swollen cuntlips, my senses slipping sweetly as her scent and her taste washed over me. At first I teased, a soft tongue sliding gently over every part of her kitten except her brightly pink and swollen clit. Her breathing told me that this was just what she needed, that naughty little kitty.

I love the sight of my small and delicate fingers with their glossy, painted nails gently parting the lips of a girl's kitten. Its something I indulge in every time I find myself in the valley of a woman's parted legs. Also, for me, art and sex have always been intrinsically matched, ever playfully dancing around and inside one another.

I bit my lips when I beheld this same sight between Ellie's legs, my delicate and softly prying fingers so close to her center, so softly giving pleasure. With my fingers gently parting her kitten, my tongue delved with a purpose, circling around her opening and venturing its tip inside of her. The texture of my tongue on the textured inside of her kitten felt like a slippery fruit, so hot and sweet to my taste buds.

Small panting breaths escaped Ellie's mouth, her hands sliding over my scalp and through my silky hair, tousling it. My body recognized her responses and my tongue and lips worked against her hot flesh to bring her to orgasm. I let the flat of my tongue slip over her clit in succession, quick moments so harshly repeated. Here is a little sex tip for you dudes out there: repetition of a heated action will always bring your woman to climax.

When I could feel her body begin the rapture of her pounding orgasm, my lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently at it. From her mouth issued such screams and moans with her body in a torrent of uncontrolled spasms and rapture.

When at last her body had quieted and her mind was in the cloud of orgasmic euphoria, I slid up and laid my head on her lower stomach, her hands idly sliding through my long hair. I felt the air enter her lungs and also leave, such a movement of calm.

Like the ocean a woman's body is, the waves sliping in and out in calm existence with the rest of the world. Her orgasm is like a hurricane, washing over the expanse of her and sweeping the world with it into a rapturous storm.

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A Kiss of Rosé Part One

To me, a woman is a work of art, a delicate flower and hot and sexy tigress, just waiting to be pounced on and licked.

Though I'll always fall to men as my default and most longed for lover, women have also had their place in the various folds of my sexual adventures.

When I sketch, draw or paint - my favorite form and shape is that of a woman. I sketch out the curves of the hips, the bottom, the thighs, I even love to sketch out the delicate sole of the feet and the arch at the back of the ankle. Softly drooping breasts, heavy on the chest and a sight for the eyes. I delicately draw in and rub soft the nipples, the fingertips and toes.

Women are beauty, they are art and Ive definitely have had my fun with them in the past.

Ellie was French like me and very willowy in form. Lacking my Irish and German blood, her form was solely French with delicate bends, sways and curves - just subtle enough to make you glance softly on her body, trying to see a passion radiating from her core, her curves. Our bodies near one another were such a sight. Her soft and sometimes girlish body next to my voluptuous hips, my strong shoulders and large breasts seemed to just make her ever-more soft and delicate. Our small hands always ended up catching together, latching and testing the warmth within the embrace.

Before any of our physical romance began, we were already passionate about each other's minds. After my Sociology class early in the winter semester of classes, Ellie and I were sitting in one of the tree shaded courtyard sitting at a picnic type table and drinking the obligatory cup of coffee. We were arguing about our ancestry, she was very passionate and goading,

You are simply not French enough! her almost eradicated accent flowed softly over the word "French".

What would prove to you that Im French? Im already full of rampant sexuality, look at my sexual habits! And I eat like a bird and always drink coffee...and tea. Stop being stereotypical.

She giggled and pressed a fingertip to her lips. Her smile was wicked behind her fingers and hen her eyes flashed up to mine, I knew what she was thinking. Her expression oozed sex.

Would you give in to any primal sexual need? Like what if...you wanted to kiss a woman? Would you kiss me if the need pressed you?

I bit my lip and nodded slowly at her, my eyes lowering yet lingering on her arms, her shoulders exposed to the sun in the campus courtyard. When at last our eyes met again, her gaze was passionate and I watched in wonder as she came round the small picnic table and sat next to me. My flesh seared when her hand touched my thigh, my skin feeling the heat, it seemed, even through a layer of denim.

Our faces neared as we looked at one another, testing the moment, the heat. When our lips touched, something felt like it broke inside of me, letting a well of pent up lust and emotion in one moment. Though it wasn't my first kiss with a girl, it seemed to be epic and changing as only intimate physical contact can be.

Later that week when we found ourselves alone in her living room, her mother had gone out to do whatever things that mothers like to do on Tuesday mornings. As I sat at the kitchen's breakfast bar, my heels clicked onto the bar in the stool, I wondered how long it would take for both of us to be naked. When Ellie bade me into her room, asking that I help unbutton her lace over-blouse so she could change into a t-tank. I smiled as I sauntered down the tiled hall, my mind wallowing in yet another round of lascivious images.

Once with her, my fingers softly lit over the pearl buttons down her back, small and pink against her bronze, tanned skin beneath the thin pink lace. I kissed the back of her neck as I reached the last of the buttons and made her shoulders rise a bit in surprise. She swiveled her eyes in my direction and looked like a needy puppy, needing affection after a long day alone. My hands seemed so hot as they slid down her back and around to her hips, gliding over her tummy, my fingers linking in front of her as I kissed and nibbled at her neck.

Her sounds were lilted her in slightly husky voice, her throat sounding full and tired. She turned quickly and sat on the bed, pulling me along with her. Our ankles tangled as we lent across our legs, our lips touching and dancing so smoothly together. He tongue was small and hot against mine and my lips, her teeth ever so gentle against my lips, plying them.

This entry is continued here. Yay!

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